


You Smell Like an Airplane

by jumpinglamps



Category: Free!, makoharu - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, NSFW, Ridiculous amounts of fluff, Spoilers, Tokyo - Freeform, aiports, if you haven't finished the second season yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpinglamps/pseuds/jumpinglamps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Makoto and Haru are trapped in an airport all day. Sexy times ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Smell Like an Airplane

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fic ever as well as my first time writing sexy things so... yeah. Here is my contribution to the makoharu fandom (I love these boys so much).

“Do you have everything, Haru?” Makoto side-stepped a small pile of boxes on his way out of the bathroom and moved to seat himself on a chair in the living room. They had been living in Tokyo for nearly three months and Haru still had yet to set his apartment in order. Makoto tried coaxing him into slowly unpacking things for a while, asking where particular books and pictures might be so Haru had an excuse to take things out of a box, but he gave up when Haru caught onto what he was doing and started pointing at boxes from across the room.

Haru peaked out from his room with a backpack and a jacket over his shoulders, standing expectantly in the doorway. Makoto looked up and frowned.

“Is that really enough? We’ll be away for a week and it’s only getting colder. You have more than swim jammers in there, right?”

Haru blinked, “I’ll be fine.”

Makoto groaned, “Haru, we don’t have time for this. Here,” He stepped over the boxes and lifted the bag off of Haru’s shoulders, stumbling into his room. Haru watched as he dug through a box near the dresser and pulled out jeans and a couple of longer shirts. “Coat?” Makoto’s head bobbed up from the box with his eyebrows bent in concentration.

“I’m wearing it already.”

Makoto shook his head, “That’s not enough – your big coat.”

Haru shrugged. “I haven’t seen it.”

Makoto’s shoulders slumped. “Ok, well I have an extra one so we’ll just use that – oh no, we’ll miss the train!” He shouldered Haru’s bag and pulled Haru along with him to the door, tripping over boxes and snagging his own suitcase as they went.

“Wait, I can carry it-” Haru tried to protest but Makoto waved and pulled him out of the apartment. Prying himself free, Haru locked the door with a click and turned to try and take his bag back, but Makoto was already halfway down the hall, calling Haru after him. He followed with a huff.

 

The train was crowded and dirty and Makoto was glad the ride was a short one – at least shorter than the ride from Haru’s apartment to his own. As much as he didn’t care for the train, Haru seemed to detest it more. Haru’s hands rooted themselves in their pockets, his neck bending to avoid making eye contact with the other passengers. He stood closer to Makoto than he usually did, slumping over so that his head rested on a broad shoulder. He had insisted over the phone that six wouldn’t be too early for him but Makoto knew better and didn’t move, letting Haru close his eyes for a few minutes.

He gently shook Haru awake at their station and held onto his arm as they squeezed off the train so as not to lose him in the crowd. Haru didn’t protest as Makoto pulled him onward again, off the platform and through the crowded entrance, though he did shake himself free when they got to street level.

It was another ten minute walk to airport – Makoto used this time to run through the mental list in his head a few times over: coat, shoes, socks, extra coat, jammers, Ran’s favorite game, text book, homework, computer, plane ticket…

Makoto stopped short of the doors at the airport, digging through his pockets till his fingers drifted over a piece of paper – ah, his order number. He relaxed and looked over his shoulder at Haru. “Do you have your order number, Haru? For your ticket?”

Haru glanced up and nodded. He wordlessly unzipped a pocket of his backpack, still hoisted on Makoto’s shoulder, and tugged a crinkled paper free, holding it up.

“Ok, let’s go!” Makoto smiled and started walking forward again, stopping short when he felt himself being pulled backward. Haru was pulling on his backpack strap.

“I need my bag so I can go through security.”

“Oh, right.” Makoto shrugged the bag off and handed it over. Haru shouldered it and walked ahead of Makoto, listening to Makoto’s panicked shuffling as he gathered his things and followed after.

They stopped at the ticket counter first. Haru stepped off to the side of the line after he got his ticket to wait for Makoto to check his bag, fiddling with a strap on his backpack.

“I’m sorry sir, but your flight has been delayed due to some fueling problems with the plane.” The woman behind the ticket counter chimed, clicking out some message on her computer screen.

“Oh, um, how long is the delay going to be?” Makoto stammered, watching helplessly as his bag was whisked away on the conveyer belt with countless others. Shouldn’t she have said something about this before she took his bag?

“I’m not sure – but it shouldn’t be more than a few hours. You may choose to reschedule your flight at our help desk around the corner.” She didn’t look up from her computer screen.

“When is the next flight?” Makoto wondered how difficult it would be to get his bag back.

“Thursday.” He caught a slight smack in her voice this time as she failed to conceal her chewing gum.

“But that’s two days from now!” Makoto frowned. She still didn’t look up at him.

“We apologize for the inconvenience. I can help next in line!” She stood on tiptoe to look over his shoulder. Makoto stumbled out of the way of a man in a business suit and clutched his ticket to his chest. Head spinning, he turned and looked up to see Haru, head bobbing up and down as if fighting sleep.

Makoto jogged up next to him, a breathy anxiety catching at the back of his throat. “Our flight’s been delayed!”

“I know.” Haru looked up to meet Makoto’s eyes.

“But they don’t know how long it will take!”

“I know.”  
            “And there’s not another flight to Iwatobi until Thursday!”

“Makoto,” Haru steadied Makoto’s flailing arm with a hand. “I know.”

Oh. Of course he knew – Haru had gotten his ticket first. Makoto’s chest loosened a bit, though the frown on his face didn’t budge. “But, what are we going to do?”

Haru released Makoto’s arm. “You already checked your bag, right? We’ll just wait. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

Whether or not Haru was right aside, he certainly looked too tired to get back to the train station or go through another long line to schedule a second flight. And he did have a point with Makoto’s bag.

After making their way through security, they stopped by a coffee stand for Makoto. He offered to buy Haru a cup, but he predictably wrinkled his nose at the idea. He probably wanted to nap while they waited anyway.

Makoto bought some melon bread and a cup of coffee and lead them toward their terminal, glancing between their tickets to be sure they both said the same thing.

“Terminal 5C, 5C… Haru I think we passed it. This doesn’t seem right.” Makoto’s eyes flickered from the ticket to the terminal signs overhead, his face slowly burying itself in the tickets.

“Makoto.”

Makoto’s head snapped up and followed Haru’s finger, pointing toward a sign for terminal 5C. “Oh,” he smiled, realizing the muscles in his shoulders had been clenched as they relaxed.

They settled themselves down in a couple of empty seats near the terminal entrance, Haru shifting his bag to the ground and nuzzling into Makoto’s shoulder. While Haru might have been too tired to be embarrassed by such an affectionate gesture in public, Makoto certainly wasn’t. The heat dusting his cheeks didn’t last long though, as he heard Haru’s breath slow, felt the gentle push of air as it escaped his nose. He chanced a glance down to watch as his chest slowly rose and fell, every part of his body completely relaxed. Makoto’s chest clenched and he realized he was smiling.

He had intended on sharing his bread with Haru since it was rather large for him alone, so he ate half and folded the rest back in its wrapper for whenever he woke up. He drank his coffee in small sips, flipping through a newspaper on a nearby table carefully, so as not to jostle his shoulder too much.

 

Two newspapers and three magazines later, Haru had woken up and drifted off in the pursuit of a water bottle, leaving Makoto to reread some of the articles he’d found interesting in the second magazine. Just as Haru disappeared from view behind a large family, Makoto’s phone buzzed to life in his pocket. He jumped at the sensation and frantically dug it out to see it was his mother calling. Guilt took him momentarily – he should have let her know the plane was delayed.

“Mom?” Makoto’s voice was a little scratchy from disuse.

“Honey? What’s happened? You should have landed half an hour ago.” Makoto’s heart sank as he listened to her voice raise a little, vying to be heard over a smattering of other voices and screaming children. She was already at the airport.

“I’m sor- wait landed? What time is it?” Makoto glanced down at his watch with a jolt.

“It’s already past three, why? Where are you?”

Makoto explained the delay to her, apologizing profusely for not keeping track of the time and calling her. She promised it was fine so long as he and Haru were safe and Makoto swore to call her when they knew they were leaving, but the heavy feeling didn’t leave after they hung up.

Makoto blew out a gust of air and pressed his thumb to his forehead, feeling his reading glasses press an indention on the bridge of his nose as his finger unconsciously rested on it.

“What’s wrong?” Haru’s voice forced one of Makoto’s eyes open. He peaked up and was met with Haru’s mid-drift. Ignoring the heat creeping up his neck, Makoto let his eye slide up to see Haru clutching a bottle of water and, unexpectedly, a book titled “The Plight of the Dolphin”.

“Nothing,” Makoto let his hand drop so he could meet Haru’s gaze full on, “I just didn’t realize how long we’ve been here – I forgot to call Mom.”

“Oh.” Haru sat down and gazed pensively at his water for a few moments. “She wasn’t mad,” he finally spoke, more of an observation than a question.

“Mm.” Makoto shook his head. Haru drank some of his water.

The book Haru had come back with was thrust suddenly into Makoto’s lap. “It’s better than a magazine.” Haru drained the rest of his water in two gulps and leaned his head back.

Makoto froze for a moment before the smile returned to his face, “Thank you Haru!” Haru turned his head away and muttered a reply too soft for Makoto to hear, but he got the gist of it.

After he’d gotten a few pages in, Makoto felt Haru’s eyes on his face so he looked up. Haru was studying him silently, turning over the empty bottle in his hands. “Aren’t you tired?” Haru broke the silence.

“A little.” Makoto admitted, not quite realizing until that moment how exhausted he felt. Haru shifted himself so he sat a little further away and shrugged off his jacket, folding it and plopping it on the edge of his lap. With a nod he looked back to Makoto, eyebrows raised in expectation. Makoto flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears as the realization of what Haru was suggesting clicked in his brain. “N-no Haru that’s ok, I-”

“It’s fine.” Haru tapped his lap again.

“But-”

Haru reached up and tugged Makoto’s jacket sleeve with a bit of force, Makoto hesitantly allowing himself to sink into the gesture until his cheek rested on the make-shift pillow in Haru’s lap. Haru pulled off Makoto’s glasses and stuffed them into a side pocket in his backpack.

He didn’t dislike it exactly, in fact if they were anywhere else Makoto might have fallen asleep in seconds, but being around so many people – his stomach twisted into knots.

“You’re not sleeping.” Haru’s belly thrummed at the back of Makoto’s head as he spoke. He heard a sleepy thickness, just barely noticeable in Haru’s words, like the way he sounded early in the morning last Monday when he’d caught Makoto leaving for class after he’d slept over unexpectedly. The way he’d caught onto the hem of Makoto’s boxers and grumbled for him to stay a little longer, dragging him back to the bed with an arm lazily tossed around his waist –

“Makoto.” Haru’s voice was lower, quieter, but it was still urgent enough to bring Makoto back from his daydream. He twisted around in to look up at Haru’s face. There was a light pink hue coloring Haru’s cheeks that brought a squirmy sensation to Makoto’s gut.

“What is it?” He wasn’t sure why his voice dropped to a whisper too.

“Are you – well – we’re in public.” Haru did seem to be able to meet his eyes. His legs shifted slightly. Makoto’s gaze drifted down to the place Haru’s eyes seemed to be dancing around and almost immediately popped back upright. Makoto folded his hands over the slowly rising tent at the front of his jeans, fighting the wave of heat rising over his ears. He thought he heard a small apology fall from Haru’s lips.

“It’s ok, it’ll go down eventually.” Makoto hoped. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Makoto desperately trying to think of something gross or scary. The movie they’d watched last weekend was pretty scary – there was a ghost haunting this school and killing off children in the classes. Haru had let Makoto push his head into his shoulder when someone died and helped distract him at some of the more bloody moments and – come to think of it they didn’t really see the way that movie ended. Makoto had pulled Haru closer when he heard one of the girls screaming and then he’d realized how good Haru smelled and then – ah crap.

“Um, Haru, could I ah – borrow that?” Makoto gestured with a nod to the jacket on Haru’s lap.

“No.” Haru tightened his grip on the fabric. Makoto flinched, taken aback and was about to ask if something was wrong when he noticed the way Haru’s hand moved, pushing the jacket more toward the center of his lap, fingers clenching tightly to keep it in place. Makoto’s tongue scrunched at the back of his mouth with a dry gulp.

Makoto glanced up to the memo board of flight times. Their flight still didn’t have a take off time yet. “Haru will you c-come to the bathroom with me?” Makoto’s voice was so low he wasn’t sure if Haru could hear it, though his concern was lifted when Haru’s eyes widened. He fidgeted with the jacket on his lap for a bit, gaze trained on the ground ahead of him. Then, wordlessly he stood and grabbed his backpack, folding his jacket in front of him to cover his pants. His eyes shifted to Makoto and back ahead of himself almost imperceptibly fast.

Taking the hint, Makoto leapt to his feet and trailed behind Haru to the restroom, walking with a strange lilt to his hips, attempting to somehow hide the front of his pants.

As soon as they hit the restroom, Makoto ducked into the nearest stall, pulling Haru after him. But Haru threw off his grasp, stepping back a bit.

“No, this is still…” Haru’s eyes darted back and forth along the line of stalls and urinals. The room was virtually empty, and while the knowledge that anyone could walk in at any time did prickle at the back of Makoto’s throat uncomfortably, his pants were starting to get painful and no amount of horror movie gore could make it go down at this point.

“I’m sorry, but – I think I’ll still use one.” Makoto’s mouth twitched in an apologetic smile as he ducked into a stall, moving to close it behind him, but something stopped the door from closing completely and then Haru was clamoring in with him, sliding the lock in place behind his back.

They stood still in the cramped space, eyes locked and breaths quickening, until finally Makoto reached forward to cup Haru’s neck, using it to gently pull him forward into a kiss. Haru’s lips were soft, but firm as they pressed back into Makoto’s. Without breaking apart he shrugged his backpack to the floor and dropped his jacket on top of it, allowing his free hands to travel along Makoto’s back and close what little distance was left between them.

Makoto’s tongue nudged along Haru’s lips tenatively until they opened, allowing their tongues to twine together and explore the other’s mouths. With shaking hands Makoto lifted the edge of Haru’s shirt, letting his fingers drag along Haru’s hipbones, along his stomach and rib cage and over his chest. Haru took his shirt out of Makoto’s hand and held it up himself, leaving Makoto’s hands free to work over his chest, gently prod his nipples until they got firm beneath his fingers.

Makoto could hear Haru’s grunt vibrate along his tongue as it caught in his throat. With a quiet pop Makoto pulled his mouth away to press his lips to the edge of Haru’s jaw, down the side of his neck, pausing to give attention to his adam’s apple. Haru’s head bent back to give him better access, gentle moans leaking through tightly pressed lips.

Haru’s sounds were Makoto’s favorite part of sex – the shapeless noises that escaped him, raw and untethered and unlike any other form of communication they’d ever shared. He knew which place would make which sound: for example, if he tweaked the left nipple just a little – Haru arched unevenly and panted with a small grunt. Feeling lightheaded, he pressed a hard kiss to Haru’s adam’s apple, then a soft one to his chin, and Haru’s breath rattled in response.

“Ma-Makoto,” Haru’s half-lidded eyes peered into Makoto’s, want twisting his features beautifully.

“I’m sorry; it hurts doesn’t it?” Makoto’s hand ghosted over Haru’s abdomen to the edge of his jeans. Haru closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the stall again. Makoto pressed another light kiss to Haru’s jaw line, undoing the jeans as he went, slowly dragging the zipper over the bulge. Chest heaving, Haru ran his hands up and down Makoto’s sides, egging him on. And he set Haru free, bouncing up over the edge of his jammers – Makoto suppressed a chuckle at the sight of the swimwear, deciding it would be stranger if he weren’t wearing them. Makoto ran his fingers along the length and Haru bit his lip in response squirming against the stall.

They both froze at the muffled sound of approaching voices. Footsteps echoed across the tiled walls of the restroom. Someone laughed. A squeak as a stall somewhere to their left was opened and closed. The sound of a zipper and shuffling pants. More laughter. Something about an Akira from accounting.

Reeling, Makoto snapped back into focus as Haru moved, bringing the shirt he held up to his mouth and biting down on it. With trembling fingers he brushed Makoto’s forearm, running soothing circles into the skin there with his thumb. Makoto’s arm relaxed a little, the sudden realization rushing over him that this would probably be the last time they could do something like this for the next week as neither of them were quite comfortable doing anything under the Tachibana roof with Ren and Ran in the next room, and Haru’s parents had sold the house when the boys moved to Tokyo. Makoto’s chest felt tighter – he wanted to be everywhere, see Haru’s everything, show him everything.

Makoto’s breath shook as he continued, letting his thumb run over the head of Haru’s length. Haru’s neck strained as he bit into his shirt, hands moving unsteadily up Makoto’s sides again, and across his stomach, skirting a nipple. A shudder ripped through Makoto’s core and he moved a little faster, working up Haru’s length with a little more force. Haru’s hips started to sway with Makoto’s efforts and his hand moved lower, working on the front of Makoto’s jeans. Makoto pressed his forehead to Haru’s as his own length sprung free. He let out a strangled sigh as Haru pulled along it, running his thumb over the tip, repeating Makoto’s movements.

There was a flush to their left and the soft crash of rushing water. More laughter and footsteps, slowly dying out until the room was quiet again.

Makoto breathed out a little relief from his nose and shuffled closer until their hips touched, widening his grasp on Haru’s length to encompass them both. Haru bucked, into Makoto’s hand, rubbing the two of them together in a way that made Makoto’s back muscles ripple. Whitish beads started to form and drip down between their heat, though Makoto wasn’t sure which one of them had started first. He used it to slick his movements, bucking his hips in time with Haru’s sway, every slide of his hand a little smoother. Haru’s hand joined his and they were moving together, coherent thoughts fading as heat built up in Makoto’s gut, their hips moving in sporadic unison.

Makoto’s gut tightened and he was breathing out Haru’s name, their foreheads crushing together, Makoto’s free hand moving behind Haru’s head to keep it from hitting the stall. Haru’s shirt fell from his mouth, air escaping his red lips in quick puffs.

“Makoto,” he breathed hotly on Makoto’s mouth and nose. Then every part of his body was shuddering, rippling into an uncontrollable movement as he and Haru crashed together until he couldn’t tell who was shaking, who was breathing, which one of them was producing this intense heat that radiated throughout the entirety of his being.

And then, finally Makoto could see again, breath evening out as he leaning against Haru. He started to pull away as he came to, realizing he might be too heavy for Haru, but a hand on his hip stopped him.

“Just for a minute,” Haru breathed. Makoto obliged gladly and pressed himself against Haru again, careful to keep his weight mostly on the stall this time.

It was quiet and still, and Makoto could feel Haru’s heart thrumming between their chests along with his own. His lips unconsciously pressed to Haru’s cheek, his ear, his forehead, slow and soft. Haru’s hands rested on Makoto’s back, occasionally rubbing a small circle into its center.

Finally, they broke apart, each taking some toilet paper to clean themselves off. They straightened out their clothes, Makoto making sure to pull Haru’s jacket a little snugger around the front to hide a new wet spot at the bottom of his shirt, and they stepped out to wash their hands.

When they arrived back to their seats by the terminal Makoto noticed their plane finally had a take off time scheduled two hours away. He smiled and leaned into Haru’s shoulder, murmuring that he should let his mother know, his eyelids drifting closed before he could reach for his phone.

 

Haru smiled and plucked Makoto’s phone from his pocket. Mrs. Tachibana sounded relieved at the news and Haru promised to make Makoto at least send her a mail before the plane took off. He replaced the phone and gazed down to Makoto’s face, finally relaxed, pressed into his shoulder. Haru tucked a bit of sandy brown hair behind Makoto’s ear with a soft smile. “We haven’t even stepped on the airplane yet and you already smell like one.”


End file.
